"I'll take the shepherd," I said to the barista. The dalmatian, daschund, and terrier simply wouldn't do. Later, I took the dog for a walk; albeit digesting inside of me.
According to my fabulous 2011 Slingshot organizer, complete with key dates regarding activists, anarchists, worker's rights, and revolutions, today is Epiphany. Ring them bells, Baez! Time to take your Christmas tree down and eat all your collected fruits and nuts. Carnival season begins as you load up like a zealous squirrel, what with your freshly-baked cake containing one bean and one pea. Who will be crowned King and Queen tonight? Only the legumes can say.
Forget the instant data delivery to your handset of the 21st century; how about stores? Talk about instant gratification! There's something to be said for having to wait a little for what you want. I'm for the days of ordering from the dusty brown-paged tome at the town goods outpost. Three months to get that calico and twine in? Fine; save up for some lumps of sugar and a packet of novelty buttons. Watch at the front porch until that postal worker on his horse arrives just past winter. And then, with great aplomb, friend: unwrap.
Something happened that caused it to be three days into the new year. I am not yet sure what this new year is made of. Are our hands sticky? It might be paper mache. Does it bake well and go nicely with jams? Perhaps the time-space continuum is really bread. Maybe if we look at what good it's brought so far, as well as what challenges we might anticipate, we can give it a good bath as if to say, You're perfect, and clean to boot.
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